


A Very Tired Officer

by HamletLaertes



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Drabble, Light Angst, lonely mako
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-31 08:44:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3971455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HamletLaertes/pseuds/HamletLaertes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A very short drabble about one of Mako's nights spent alone at the police station in the wake of the destruction of his apartment</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Very Tired Officer

**Author's Note:**

> This was more of a practice than a serious story, but I figured I'd share it anyway!

Mako's eyes opened, fluttered closed, and then open again. He realized he'd reread the exact same sentence seven times, so he shook his head and ground the heel of his hand into his forehead. It was so quiet in the police station you could almost hear him think, well if I'm going to be here anyway, I should at least be getting work done. I'd hate for Chief Beifong to think I'm a slacker. So quiet that each time he flipped a page the noise startled him, and the gentle sound of his own breathing only lulled him further towards sleep.

When he made the decision to join the police force, he hadn't planned on there being so much paperwork. Right now, he was poring over a report of an incident involving the Agni Kais and a whole lot of explosives, but it was so hard to concentrate on when he was so tired…

He dozed, only to be woken up by the smack of his own forehead against the wood of his desk. The pain surprised him, woke him up. I should sleep, he thought. Otherwise I'll be dead tired tomorrow and no use at all. He tidied the scattered pages of the report into a satisfyingly organized pile, not bothering to mark his place. The entire thing would have to be reread, anyway. He unlocked the bottom drawer of his desk, where he was supposed to be keeping case files, and pulled out his pajamas. Beside a tiny tub of hair gel was a toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste so squeezed and battered it didn't seem likely he'd get another drop out of it.

He shuffled to the bathroom and, against all odds, eked enough toothpaste to cover the brush. He avoided looking at himself in the mirror while he cleaned his teeth. Sleeping at the police station wasn't the same as sleeping on the streets, but he was still ashamed he hadn't found another place to stay after his apartment was destroyed. He reminded himself that he could be in a real bed on Air Temple Island right now – but then, no he couldn't. Staying there would have been worse than sleeping on the floor at work.

He dragged his uniform jacket over his head, too clumsy with sleepiness to unbutton it properly. His pants hit the floor unceremoniously. At home, he took off his uniform with perfect care, folding it so there was no possible way a wrinkle could mar his sharp, meticulously ironed creases. Today, he rolled it into a ball and tucked it under his arm. He shuffled over to the supply closet, yawning, and pulled a sleeping bag and pillow out of a mildewed box at the very back of the bottom shelf.

His bedding stank from being stored there, but he couldn't risk someone finding it. He rolled out the sleeping bag and carefully positioned the pillow. Then he flung himself backwards onto his makeshift bed, forgetting there was nothing beneath the cloth but hardwood. The impact knocked the air out of him for a moment. When he could breathe again, he carefully unzipped the bag and tried to get as cozy as was possible inside. Thankfully, his weariness overcame his discomfort, and he was asleep in moments.


End file.
